Reflection
by UnwrittenTears
Summary: At sea, a little handheld mirror makes all the difference. (Extremely minor spoilers for "Alice Through the Looking Glass").
1. Chapter 1

**Because I was** _ **beyond pissed**_ **at the end of** **Alice Through the Looking Glass.** **Tim Burton, I coming after you, preferably with a Harley Quinn-esque type hammer.**

•

Her blue eyes gaze out through the porthole, absentmindedly admiring the endless abyss that during the day painted the world in shades of blue and gray. She closed her eyes in order to consciously feel the rocking embrace of the waves—a feeling that had once amazed her, but now felt as nothing but a comforting, familiar sway. Opening her eyes, she once again took to staring mindlessly at the paperwork illuminated by lamplight on her desk.

Only two days into their newest venture to China, and Alice already began drowning in paperwork and legalities. The farther the ship journeyed from the mainland, the more time could be spent on deck; but for now, midnight paperwork and nighttime daydreaming would consume her time.

Leaning back in order to reorganize and refocus, her eyes fell on a gleaming sliver vanity mirror on the corner of her desk, and then allows her fingers to dance over the intricate designs lightly. It amazes her how only a few weeks ago she had passed through a looking glass to her beloved Underworld. At the thought of the kingdom, her heart aches, but the inspiration that always accompanies one of her visits overpowers it, and she pushes that ache away.

Slowly, she picks up the small, silver-inlaid handheld looking glass—a keepsake from her last trip to the emperor's court, before her latest trip to Underland—and holds it up to admire her new, shortened curls in all their unsocietal glory. Instead of the yellow bob she is assuredly coming to love, gravity-defying orange hair and eyes brighter than any royal's gems fill the glass. Her own eyes widen and her jaw drops, despite the fact that her brain accepts the appearance of the visage before her as quite reasonably, considering that just a few weeks ago she was traveling through mirrors herself.

The face looking back at her broke into a quite maddened grin that caused her heart to race violently.

"Hello Alice."


	2. Chapter 2

Her traditional mourning gown itches like anything seemingly traditional does, reminiscent of fleas on a ship, and her "fashionable" shoes pinch her toes like crabs on some tropical island beach. In all, the entire attire aims to punish her, a reprimand for spending so much time away and losing herself in the world beyond England.

Her mother's death came as no surprise considering her age—yet, the news shocked Alice to her core, like news of a death always does. Now an orphan and spinster in the eyes of society, the idea that life remained too short to waste on work rather than developing her "muchness" constantly stared her in the face. With the realization that Alice herself may possess very little time left—due to her unpredictable lifestyle and adventures—she decided upon one final journey.

Once the arrangements for the funeral commenced, Alice attended to several side projects between meetings with the florist and arguing with the mortician (No, her mother would _not_ be buried wearing that atrocious red lipstick, _thank you very much_ ). Two days after the funeral, the small cottage her mother resided in until her death would be placed on the market; the Kingsleigh &Kingsleigh Shipping Company willed into the extremely capable hands of Alice's second-in-command with the instructions to "think of six impossible things before breakfast"; and the preparations for the 'mysterious disappearance' of Miss Alice Kingsleigh completed.

Now, with her mother dead and buried and a potential buyer for the cottage lined up for tomorrow, Alice stood in her mother's dainty room in the cottage. Her black dress dominating her appearance, causing her to appear sallow and ill. Per custom, the clock hands stood fixed at the time of Mrs. Kingsleigh's passing and the mirrors covered in black fabric—all to remain in their positions until the mourning period ended.

The floor length mirror in her mother's small room hid under a sheer, black cloth—the only fabric they could find large enough to cover its entirety—that allowed the observer to vaguely see a distorted image through it. From her position in front of the looking glass, Alice could just make out her untamable blonde curls, but not the small wrinkles beginning to form at the corner of her eyes—a reminder that after all, Time waits for no man.

She glanced around the room once more and, with her resolve strengthened, she pulled the fabric from the looking glass. Just like all those years ago, when she first saw his reflection in a small handheld looking glass upon a ship, vibrant clothing, golden eyes, and orange hair longer than she ever remembered it greeted her, bringing a cheek-aching smile to her lips.

"Hello Alice," the Hatter greeted, his eyes sparkling with unconcealed insanity.

"Hello Hatter, I am ready."

"Oh good! Underland has quite missed you, you know."

A knowing smirk crossed Alice's face, "And so have you I suppose?"

"Why, of course."

Both reflections paused for a second, allowing the moment to sink in on their respective sides of the looking glass. Silently, the Hatter extended his hand towards Alice through the looking glass. With but a slight hesitation, she grasped it, and allowed the Hatter to pull her through the mirror.


End file.
